


Survival of the unfittest

by Z_doodle



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, OC, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Z_doodle/pseuds/Z_doodle
Summary: Snagrim Lockjaw, an escaped prison convict washes up on the shores of Snacktooth Island.-Tags-Names and warnings will be added as the story updates-Socials-Tumblr: @z-doodleRefsheet for snagrim can be found here-Notes-Snagrim will never (and should never) be describe as crazy or insane. Nor will he be diagnosed with any know mental illnesses, such as schizophrenia, insanity, psychosis, BPD, or other commonly demonized disorders. I do not wish to add to the negative stigma surrounding them. Especially since my own sister has BPD and my own Mother has Schizophrenia.He may occasionally be described as "unwell", "unfit", or "evil" by himself or others. Snagrim is sadistic. I am developing his character as I go along and debating if he will be considered redeemable or remorseful by the end of the story. Especially since I don't like to write villany without motive or explanation. I hope you'll join me for the journey.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Escape

Blaring sirens faded into the distance with every step, slowly being drowned out by the crinkling of fallen leaves and the clattering of rocks pinging against each other as he ran.

He knew he couldn't linger. They'd have the hounds on him if he stuck around too long and he had no intentions of going back. Not without a fight. He kept moving, laying low as to not draw attention to himself as he made his way to the bay, Knowing that getting out of the city would buy him time.

***

He didn't care that he was unprepared, he would rather die at sea than return to prison anyway. He shoved a rickety old paddle boat onto the water. He wasn't above thievery. He only had so many hours of darkness to get as far out to sea as possible. He waded out and climbed aboard. Gripping the paddles in his paws, he began rowing.


	2. Arrival

Waves crashed along the shore. Splintered wood littering the beach as Snagrim layed limp in the sand. Weakened by the days at sea, and the sudden storm that sent his boat careening. It was amazing he was still alive or even conscious through his dehydration and the plunge into the unforgiving waters.

He reluctantly pushed himself upright. His claws sinking into the sand under his weight. A low grumble getting caught in his dry throat. Pain didn't bother him all that much, he was more annoyed by the grit clinging to his fur. 

Forcing his lanky build up right onto his feet, he dusted his paws pad free of filth and scanned the beach. It was eerily quiet besides the sounds of the tumbling waves. Perhaps his ungraceful arrival has startled whatever wildlife inhabited the island.


	3. Discovery

Standard survival instincts kept him from giving into death. He needed to find fresh water at the very least, dehydration would make him kick the bucket far sooner than starvation would. He trudged along aimlessly for sometime, scanning his surroundings for anything that may hold saltless water. Fortunately for him there were small clusters of springs located not far off the shoreline.

The water within them was warm. Far from refreshing, but it was still water, and compared to nothing it wasn’t worth complaining over. He lapped at it like a lowly dog but that didn’t come to bother him. Survival wasn’t always graceful, civil, or luxurious. And it wasn’t as if he had standards or self respect at this point. 

He was taken by surprise when something floated into his field of vision. Rearing back at the sight of the strange creature.  
“What the hell?” he exclaimed in a gravelly voice. Peering down at the thing before him. It looked like packaged goods, something you’d find at any standard convenience store, mart, or gas station. However, with googly eyes shoddily plastered on. Was this some sort of joke? What the hell was something like that doing out here on an island? He hadn’t heard a sound all day so surely there weren't any tourists...right? 

He shook his head to clear the thought and went back to drinking the terribly warm water. Opting to just ignore the _thing _as some sort of fever dream hallucination caused by head trauma or starvation. His head shot up once again however when something collided with his leg, causing him to look down at his hind paws to investigate.__

____

“An...orange?” he seemed almost unsure of that given how it rolled about in such an unnatural manner. He placed a paw to his head brushing his mane back with the back of his wrist to get a better look. It sure did look like an orange… and then it unrolled, making his fur bristle in disbelief as it crawled along the sand like some kind of insect with the same tacky googly eyes tacked on. “Surely I'm dreaming,” he muttered to himself as he stepped away from the pool. Perhaps the heat or sleep deprivation was getting to him?

____


	4. Frustration

Snagrim wandered along the beach, growing more and more unnerved by the creatures that began emerging as the sun made its way to its peak. Pineapple, Raspberry, Apple, Kiwi, all with these blank expressions created by their unnatural eyes. Surely they couldn't be real, it had to be some sort of mirage. He had attempted to capture some of them, with no success as they skittered off, burrowed, or hid from him when he approached. It was frustrating to say the least. Perhaps he had finally fallen off the deep end and this was all in his head, maybe he was dead and this was his purgatory, could be anything but surely it wasn’t real. 

Heat seeped into his dark fur making him sluggish and heavy as the day grew hotter. Only adding to his annoyance. Perhaps he should focus on finding some sort of shaded spot to bunker down in until nightfall and worry about the weird inhabitants later.

He was much more comfortable under the cover of darkness anyway. His fur was far more suited for creeping along in the shadows. A literal black sheep in his family, who were far more colorful than he, and far better suited for the warmth of day. And perhaps the night would have far easier prey. 

He let these thoughts organize themselves in his head. The pros far out weighing the cons of sleeping during the day. He no longer had any schedule here. No authority telling how his days were to play out. Ah to have control again. 

He nodded at his own decision, “Find shelter, rest, and then I’ll worry about food.” he mused to himself aloud further settling his choice as he started to patrol the beach for a suitable temporary shelter.


	5. Shelter

The day seemed to linger on for ages, hours in the sweltering sun melting together. His fur was abnormally warm to the touch. Why the hell was everything so fucking hot out here? Sure, it was a beach on a sunny day but even still it felt ridiculous. 

He nudged at large boards and rocks. Hoping to find anything that could be roughly called a shelter. Maybe a cave or hole something that would at the very least keep the elements off him for a few hours. And if he was really lucky away from the wriggling abominations that surrounded him.

His eyes narrowed. A crevice tucked just barely out of sight amongst the rocks. _Perfect _.__


	6. Rest

Despite its size being a tad cramped for snagrims lanky frame, if he curled himself up fetally he could just barely fit somewhat comfortably. He dragged a board over to partially cover the hole, dimming the interior and further shielding him from the sun. 

Resting his head on his folded arms and bringing his knees close to his chest, he let his eyes fall shut. 

It hardly took a moment for him to give into exhaustion. After being cast into the sea, drinking nearly simmering water and trekking through scalding sand, paired with starvation, it was hard to fault his body for giving out so easily. 

_It was a dreamless sleep ___


	7. Nightfall

A cool breeze jostled his fur, making him stirr and wake. Knocking over the board as he stretched. He was pleased to see the darkened sky. He welcomed it graciously, practically blending into the night. Dark to his very core. He stepped back out onto the sand. Feeling the cool earth beneath his paws, he sighed in contentment. 

His eyes roamed the sky. It was always hard to see the stars in the city, even more so in a cell. He let out a low growling chuckle. He’d done it. He was free. Surely no one would come looking for him this far from civilization. He remained still as to feel the breeze on his fur for just a moment longer. Reveling in it. 

However, he needed to eat, Preferably sooner than later. He reluctantly pulled his gaze from the sky to scan the beach once more. This time for food.


	8. Midnight Snax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Snagrims sadism starts to show.-

Sure the critters here gave him the creeps, but he had to eat and in the hours he spent roaming the shoreline they were the only thing he knew inhabited the island. They did appear to be, at the bare minimum, shaped like food. So perhaps they were food. It wouldn’t be the oddest thing he's eaten surely. His eyes fell upon one of the orange shaped creatures. It would do.

Once again abandoning all self respect, he crouched low to the ground like some kind of primal animal. Inching his way along the sand. Knees bent at an odd angle to make his legs even with his arms. Keeping his steps light as to minimize noise. He wasn’t in the mood to chase the creature should it bolt if it heard him coming. This was the best (and only) option he really had at the moment. 

It was fortunate that it was curled into a ball. At the very least it wouldn’t see him coming. Unfortunately it was tucked deep within a log. Or was it? Snagrim had freakishly long limbs and when he drew close to the driftwood he reached his paw in, hooking the creature with his claws and dragging it out despite its cries. 

He only dug his claws deeper into the skin of the insect. Unsure of how to eat it. Was it to be peeled like a regular orange or bitten directly into? He hesitated for a moment as he decided what to do. Settling on prying it open and eating it like a regular orange. The writhing of the thing was oddly endearing rather than off putting. He grinned. 

_It was living, he could kill it, and that brought him a sick form of joy. ___

__He sunk his fangs into the flesh of the creature. Pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of it. It was entirely soft, just barely the texture of a true orange. Not like it mattered. It was food of some sort and soon he finished it off._ _


	9. Side Effects

Snagrim hadn’t considered the repercussions of his actions, why would he? He was just eating. A totally natural behavior. Yet the side effect was far from natural or even expected for that matter. 

He stared down in horrified fascination at what had become of his left paw. After eating one of the bugs like creatures his limb shifted into something akin to it. He had heard of certain foods staining fur or altering the color if eaten in bulk but never had he heard of it completely altering a limbs appearance. Especially after just one meal. It was disturbing in the most intriguing way. 

He turned his paw over. It didn’t hurt. Nor did he really feel the shift outside of a momentary numbness. Was it permanent? Dangerous even? Would his limb rot away or spoil? There were so many questions tied to the orange slice that was now his paw. 

The oddity of it all only furthered his thoughts that he was already dead and trapped in some kind of personal hell. He snickered at the idea.  
“No this can’t be hell, it's far too tame.” he proclaimed aloud to himself as he continued to look over his new appendage. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see what comes of this.” already shrugging off the weirdness of it all. As if he really had any other options out here. 

He picked himself up off his knees, standing partially hunched over the driftwood he had snatched his dinner from. His fur bristling when something snapped behind him. His eyes narrowed as his head shot up and peered behind him. 

A tiny silhouette froze, paralyzed in fear.


	10. Gigglefunny and Wigglebottom

The stranger yelped, clumsily scrambling off back into the darkness. Snagrim knew from the build it was another grumpus. _Another, much smaller grumpus_. A grin spread across his lips. So the island _was_ inhabited. That made things a bit more difficult,...and a lot more fun.

A grumpus as small as this would be an easy target. However he’d have to find a perfect moment to strike. Surely playing cat and mouse was the least of his worries, but he couldn’t bring himself to pass up an opportunity to toy with the living. 

So he trailed them. Just out of eye sight and earshot. Following the frantic, sloppy footsteps and heavy breathing. ‘What a cowardly grumpus’ crossed his mind as he drew close. 

He quietly climbed up along the shallow cliffs Crouched low, remaining still, he peered below him like some kind of predatory animal.

Moonlight fell on the figure, revealing the features of them as he approached another. _'Damn it_ '. He couldn't possibly kill with witnesses around. 

The smaller of the pair was covered in peachy fur, trembling like a leaf in autumn. Wearing some sort of sleeveless sweater or vest, it was hard to tell from the dim lighting and distance. lt could very well be both. And a hat of some kind. The other towered over him, sunset orange and constantly swaying back and forth on their hind legs, wearing tacky shades despite it being dark, and some sort of feather or fur boa. 

He remained quiet. Shifting his head in an attempt to hear better. The conversation revealed their first names. The more petite of the duo being addressed as Gramble by the other who was then addressed as Wiggle. 

Both spoke with heavy accents, although Snagrim couldn’t quite make out the exact dialect of either. 

“I...I swear I saw somethin’ lurking out there” Gramble muttered, gesturing with his paw in the direction of the beach

“Darling it's the middle of the night, what on earth could possibly be out here this late?” Wiggle responded almost skeptically, still swaying back and forth. 

A grin creeped along snagrims face, this ‘Wiggle’ lady didn’t seem to believe what was being relayed to her. 

Gramble vigorously shook his head, or perhaps the trembling made it look a lot more aggressive than it was. 

"I saw it with my own two eyes wiggle!" He rebutted, as if that gave him any real credibility. 

"Gramble dear you haven't slept in weeks. Your eyes may have been playing tricks on you." Her voice was tender rather than condescending, as if she was trying to ease his nerves. "Here, tell you what, I'll stay with you tonight. That way of anything _I_ _S_ out there you won't be alone." 

Gramble considered it for a moment before agreeing. "Y...yeah, Ok." 

Snagrim furrowed his brows at this, stifling a growl at the missed opportunity….for now. With that he sunk back into the darkness.


End file.
